


Dragons of Rest Stop 10

by MushroomDoggo



Category: Flight Rising, Original Work
Genre: Drama, Found Family, Horror, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Multi, Psychological Drama, Psychological Horror, This is basically and original work set in the fr universe, you get it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-19 12:47:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22444540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MushroomDoggo/pseuds/MushroomDoggo
Summary: All dragons will one day find themselves in Rest Stop 10. What they find there, however, is up to them.What follows is the story of nine dragons who find themselves in this hidden desert town, and the supernatural forces which bring them together.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 2





	1. Prologue: Rest Stop 10

Once upon a time, there was a town in the desert.

Except, I suppose, it was never really once, and not at any particular time. There will always be a town like it, you see. In any number of universes and realities, even in worlds without the concept of a town or a desert. It is a sacred place. A place which all living things will find themselves in, one way or another.

On the planet of Sornieth, this town is known by the opening bar of an ancient coatl hymn, its meaning lost to time. Those who cannot speak coatl, however, call it Rest Stop 10. This is not only considerably less noble but also misnomer-- this town could not be considered a rest stop on the way to anywhere at all.

You see, Rest Stop 10 is smack in the middle of the Tuhinga Desert. The Tuhinga Desert is a little bit of sand in the middle of a lot more sand, but it has its own name because it is very well-contained by a magnificent rock formations to the north, a marshy and humid oasis to the east, and a sheer drop into a canyon on the south. The west side is open, and so cartographers often draw a very mysterious and decidedly non-existent dotted line to show where the made-up concept of Tuhinga ends and the rest of the neutral zone begins. 

And so Rest Stop 10 is quite a terrible rest stop, since there is no destination on the other side. All you will find are barriers until you just turn back the way you came. That could be a metaphor for something, but if it is… well, I couldn’t tell you.

Despite all of this, Rest Stop 10 is the permanent home of more than a few dragons. Or… I suppose it  _ was _ home to a few dragons.

This is the story of the day the dragons disappeared.


	2. Sonora Arrives

* * *

The final straw wasn’t what he said. It was the way he said it, the way he flopped down into his chair and kicked his claws up, the way he thought nothing at all of it. The way it was muttered under his breath and meant to be missed or misheard.

“I wanted a son, and a son I’ll have.”

The ease, the utter and contemptible ease with which claimed ownership of his child. His own child, for Stormcatcher’s sake.

That had always been his way. He wanted a son, and so he would have one. He wanted a Guardian, and so he would have one. He wanted an heir, and so he would have one.

And for what? An old diner, sinking further into the sands every day, only serving the same few lonely dragons the same bland food. 

But he was a Guardian, and this diner was his charge. And it was his father’s charge. And his father before him, and his father before him… back six generations, crotchety old Guardians just maintaining mediocrity.

Sonora shivered, partly from the thought of her father and partly from the unexpected cold of the wind as it whipped up under her cloak.

She hadn’t been what her father wanted. Not ever.

Firstly, she was not his son. She had tried to prove it to him over and over-- asking to be called “she”, changing her name, cutting her beard again and again… and it was like everything she did only served to make him angrier, to bury himself in the false notion that Sonora didn’t exist, only his son  █████. 

Secondly, she had never and would never have a charge. This was something she knew deeply and intrinsically.

Sonora’s claw clenched tighter around the breedchange scroll. She was unsure what to do with it, exactly; she had thought that it would simply disappear when she was done. Yet here it remained, its lettering uncertain, its texture cheap and unpleasant. It only served as a grim reminder of her impulsiveness.

She could hardly move. The merchant had assured her that this would be temporary--since, you see, learning to walk on just two legs would be challenging for a once-Guardian--but a little voice in the back of Sonora’s mind whispered anxious warnings. What if you can’t ever walk properly again? What if you can’t fly? You silly girl. You wanted to prove your father wrong so bad you proved him right, instead. You don’t know what’s best at all. Only he does.

In one quick move, Sonora crumpled up the spent breedchange scroll and hurled it into the sand at her feet. The wind quickly lifted it and carried it away.

Sonora reached up with shaking claws and pulled her hood off her head. The way the heavy fabric bristled against her feather--her new, terrifying, beautiful feathers--sent another shiver down her spine. No one had told her how foreign it would feel, and how… exposing it all was.

She felt as if she were baring all the most private parts of herself to the empty desert sky as should stood there, looking down on the town below her. It was as if she had been wearing a suit her whole life, one that suffocated her and made it hard to move and talk and live, and now it was off! It should have been freeing, and it was! But it was also so indescribably terrifying.

Feeling as if she was doing something indecent, Sonora put her hood back on her head, gathering the loose drapings of the fabric under her chin in one claw.

Good Gods, how could she let anyone see her like this?

She dropped down on the sand. There was no breaking this slowly, was there? Either her father would deal with it or… or he wouldn’t.

Oh, hell, where could she go? Was there anyone in town who could look after her? How would should eat? How would she stay warm when the seasons turned over?

She was clutching her chest now. It was like some kind of switch had flipped in her brain, one that made her act like a petulant fledgling with nothing to lose. Only this was worse than dying your mane an ugly color or getting your tongue pierced… this was huge. This was a statement, and one that she suddenly wasn’t sure she was ready to make.

She could picture it now… climbing the rickety metal staircase to her family’s flat above the diner, standing in the middle of the room, whipping off her cloak…

“There!” She would shout as her new body was revealed. “Now I’ll never have a charge!”

As much as she could feel the scene, right down to the way her new talons would catch in the carpet, she could not imagine her father’s reaction. In her mind, he was nothing more than a mannequin sitting quietly in his chair, a smooth and snoutless face staring back at her.

Sonora looked ahead and wiggled her toes. Her new talons certainly were large, but nothing she couldn’t get the hang of. That sense of sickly pride swelled in her chest, but deflated almost as quickly. This was the coward’s way out, wasn’t it? Or was it brave? Or was it simply a neutral thing that any young adult could be pushed to do in the right circumstances?

No. Nothing she had done so far was brave or cowardly at all. The bravery was in going home.

She looked back down at the town below her. From up on the crest, it was no more than a speck spilling neon lights over the rolling sands. Hard to believe that anyone could be afraid of something like that.

And then… suddenly, the lights were gone.

Sonora sat up.

Yes, she was right. Just like that, every light in town had been extinguished. She wondered briefly if there was some kind of power outage… but, no. Every building in town had its own back-up generator. Nothing could knock all the lights out at the same time.

Those lights were always on. As long as Sonora had remembered, they had been on.

She watched a little longer. There was no sign of concern at all down there. Not a flicker.

Without thinking, Sonora spread her new wings and leapt off the crest, soaring to the town in the south. Even looking back, she isn’t sure what carried her through the air that night. By all rights she should have plummeted to her death.

But she flew strong and true, hunting down the town in the darkness. She landed lightly in its center.

Rest Stop 10 was small and old-fashioned. It had a fair few buildings, nearly all of which had some sort of attached living accomodations for whoever owned the place; a diner, a gas station, a motel, a church, and a convenience store. All but the church had neon lights which no longer hummed in harmony.

The church, however,  _ was _ humming.

The sound made Sonora retreat into herself and scuttle towards the diner without a second thought.

She tore up the metal staircase with enough sound to wake the dead, and perhaps enough force to nearly shake it loose from the side of the building altogether. Her cloak caught on a protruding bolt and tore away from her body. 

When Sonora threw open the door to her family’s home, she would find no one there. Whether this was a blessing or a curse was yet to be seen, although things like this are rarely so simple.

Had she checked the other buildings in town she would find the same. All abandoned, as if in the middle of a daily routine. There were no signs of violence. Perhaps there had been no violence at all. 

But Sonora did not check the other buildings. All she could do on this night was cower in her bedroom, involuntarily wishing her father were there to protect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find Sonora's dragon here: https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=265954&tab=dragon&did=43655217


	3. Aloe Arrives

* * *

While the sands' surface was warm from the rising sun of a new day, Aloe's clumsy and plodding steps plunged through this outermost layer and into the chilly depths of the dunes. No matter how she tried, the pearlcatcher could not walk with any amount of grace or dignity.

Aloe's relative ineptitude in the desert was partly due to the fact that she had never been in one, and partly due to the extra weight of her pearl hanging off her right hip. She was not accustomed to carrying the wretched thing around with her, after all. She didn't know how the other pearlcatchers did it.

Part of her wanted to hurl it over the furthest dune and never look back. That bubbling, frothing, seething part of her which always wished to rash and dangerous things. At her core, though, she knew she could not be rid of her pearl. It would be too painful.

Then again…

Aloe paused. A curious claw reached back and grazed the leather sack which held her pearl. Her heart fluttered for reasons she could not explain.

When one shivering claw scraped over the surface of the pearl, she snatched it away, as if from a hot stove. There were bad things in there, and right at the surface. She wouldn’t dare let it capture her, draw her in with its shimmering whispers, its pearlescent murmurings…

She closed the sack again. Tightly.

When Aloe lifted her head, it was as if she had quite suddenly woken up from a long dream.

What was she doing in the desert?

She knew she had been there. She remembered choosing to march out into the neutral zone-- or, perhaps “flee” was the correct word. And yet she had brought nothing. Not a scrap of food, not a drop of water, not even a map.

There was nothing but sand on every side. Somehow, the sky was very nearly the same color as the sand. And it was hot… had it been this hot the whole time? Hot enough to hear ringing in her ears?

A new wave of fear washed over Aloe, though this one entirely different than the fear of memory. 

She was going to die out here.

Her breath caught in her throat. “Hello?” she called into the vast emptiness. “H-hello!”

Not even an echo responded.

The fear was roiling, now. Growing so huge and swollen that she thought she may vomit into the sand. 

No, she was  _ definitely _ going to vomit.

With practiced speed and efficiency, Aloe whipped her pearl out of her knapsack just in the knick of time. From deep in her gullet rose a gob of putrescent liquid, which she hacked onto the surface of her pearl. She was "lucky," in that her pearl gunk was a very pretty blue, rather than the ordinary cream-toned phlegm which all her pearlcatcher friends seemed to have.

Even the thought of it made her want to hurl all over again.

Aloe watched as the the thin layer of slime hardened over her pearl. Now it was even more pear-shaped than before. Such an ugly thing.

She knew what came next. It had started with a growing hatred of her pearl--somehow only the truly terrible feelings ever made her regurgitate--but had grown to be a sort of association. It didn't matter how she felt before. But after, always just after, she would be angrier than she had ever known was possible.

The nectar in her stomach began to boil and froth. It splashed up into her throat like bile, tasting sweet as honeysuckle yet still somehow the most vile and putrid thing ever to touch her taste buds.

Her limbs were shivering, trembling. Here it comes.

Aloe threw her head back and screamed into the great blue expanse which hung above her. It was one of the most feral sounds she had ever heard herself make, which only caused the anger to grow.

She tore about the sand in a tight circle, half-galloping and half-skidding. Her tail swung through the top layer of sand in a great arc and kicked up a magnificent cloud. All the while, Aloe screamed. Not with the strength of her first roar, but enough to wonder how she could carry on anyway.

As she tired, the sand settled back into its place. The shape of the desert had hardly even changed. Aloe found this to be as comforting as it was frustrating.

She wanted to lay down and cry, just cry in anger and fear and desperation and a great, looming sadness which she could not describe. 

But she was tired. She figured it was just as good to lay down and die, just dry up and blow away in the desert wind, her bones rattling about in the neutral zone for years to come. 

Another cloud of sand was launched into the air as Aloe let herself fall to the ground in a great heap. It was hard to push the nagging words of her partner out of her mind, but it was also hard to feel anything about it just now. Her outburst had drained her, as they always did.

"Sometimes you really scare me, Aloe."

Aloe winced. That one still stung.

"I'm fine, I promise," she had said. What a stupid thing to say.

Ravi had looked her so deeply in the eye that Aloe was forced to look away. "I didn't mean that I'm scared  _ for _ you. Sometimes… sometimes I'm scared  _ of  _ you."

"Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Aloe pounded a fist against her temple, in an effort to stop the memory from flowing forth. "Shut up!"

She put her claws over her eyes and pressed her chin into the sand. It was almost like a warm hug. Almost.

But the sun on her back really did feel like a comforting embrace. And the smell of bacon wafting from across the desert only furthered the feeling that she was at home.

Aloe's claws separated, and she peeked out at the desert.

The smell of bacon?

She was on her feet in a flash. The only thing that could draw her from her own emotional hell was good-- always had been, always would be. Especially after thinking you were going to die of starvation in the middle of the desert.

Aloe stretched up on her hind legs and sniffed with an ardent desperation, eyes closed, hyper-focused on the possibility of a hot breakfast.

She turned a slow circle, triangulating the source of the smell as best she could.

Bacon… eggs… toast, loaded up with butter… and hot, fresh, dark coffee.

Her eyes drifted lazily open. There, on the horizon: a blue-green smudge, shimmering like a mirage. Only mirages couldn't possible smell so delicious.

Aloe broke into a run in the direction of the shimmer, leaping off dunes and gliding over the sand in short bursts. The stronger the co-mingled smells grew, the more she found her mouth watering. Flapjacks with warm maple syrup… hot and peppery potatoes… 

The shimmer grew clearer, its form becoming obvious to Aloe: an oasis. An oasis, beyond which the promise of breakfast seemed to be shouting, screaming, begging for her to devour it.

Aloe sprung into the air and, with a mighty flap of her wings, was soaring over the oasis. Her pearl threatened to pull her down into the marshy waters below, and Aloe had to fight its weight to stay the course.

“Hello!” She screamed, a surprise even to herself. “Hello down there!”

The oasis ended (rather abruptly, she thought). Aloe tipped forward ever so slightly and plunged back down towards the ground. Her pearl threatened to tumble out of the weak, old knapsack, and she held the whole thing tight against her chest.

Aloe would have no way of knowing how important this moment was, and yet the turning of her stomach seemed to tell her anyway. This but a whisper of the shouting of hunger in her mind: _remember this moment. Remember this place. You will not want to forget._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find Aloe's dragon here: https://flightrising.com/main.php?p=lair&id=265954&tab=dragon&did=41317631


End file.
